Here's what I've been up to this week.
Me: a self-portrait.
To keep it real, I made one eye higher than the other one and gave myself a double chin. My family and friends helpfully pointed out that I look like I'm wearing a straight jacket. That was unintentional. In reality, I tried to make it look like I was crossing my arms because when I draw hands, they look like this:
My next endeavor was an amazingly true-to-life rendition of Shrinky Dink.
Despite its inherent awesomeness, Shrinky Dink complained that I added wrinkles by the mouth. I was going for an irked expression. So they are expression lines, Shrinky Dink. If I meant to draw you with wrinkles, it would have looked more like this:
Now before you all think I'm a bad friend, let me share with you what Shrinky Dink did to my self-portrait when I told her that I have poison ivy on my eyelid.
She even added the byline: Yo ho ho and a bottle of calamine.
Yes, I have poison ivy on my EYELID. My husband Tree Guy is a forester and often brings home such "gifts" from nature. Usually I avoid poison ivy by refusing to wash my husband's clothes, but this week (in an effort to bribe him to take that table back to the furniture store finally) I did his laundry. And a weepy, crusty eyelid is my reward.
There is a back story to the laundry thing. A couple years ago mysterious things started to happen to the laundry whenever I washed my husband's clothes. Despite checking the pockets, a pen would ruin the load. Candy and gum wrappers would hide in pockets and jump out to scare me as soon as I pulled the clothes from the dryer. An errant penny would kick the crap out of the dryer--but only during Tree Guy's loads. A bleach spot would randomly appear on a t-shirt (even though I never use bleach). The last straw was when a Sharpie exploded inside the washer. I was so traumatized by our laundry poltergeist that I vowed never to do Tree Guy's laundry again.
Desperate to stop obsessing about the water ring on the dining table, I sacrificed my principles. And when I told Tree Guy (who loves to be profiled online) that my gimpy eye is yet another sign from on high that I shouldn't be doing his laundry, he gave me this look:
I get no respect.